


Sometimes When We Touch

by MoonytheMarauder1



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:19:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27584651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonytheMarauder1/pseuds/MoonytheMarauder1
Summary: Remus can't bring himself to say the words Sirius needs to hear the most.
Relationships: Remus Lupin & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & James Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 70
Collections: Wolfstar Games 2020





	Sometimes When We Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, y'all! 
> 
> This was written for the Wolfstar Games 2020! Team Touch // Audio 23: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IATz8ZVTALo
> 
> This is a Muggle!AU—just so there's no confusion. I hope you enjoy. :)

* * *

_ And who am I to judge you on what you say or do? I’m only just beginning to see the real you. _

* * *

Remus’ fingers trembled as he fixed Sirius’ scarf more firmly around his neck, but whether it was from the cold that turned his hands red or the close proximity, Sirius wasn’t sure. Whatever the case, Sirius held still, for once, and let the other boy fuss in that special way of his. Remus didn’t ask permission before he did things like this—fix Sirius’ scarf, proofread his homework, make his bed in the mornings—and Sirius secretly loved it. No one else was comfortable enough to mess with his things. No one else cared enough to even think of doing those things. 

It was just another thing that made Remus Lupin special. 

“You’ll catch a cold,” Remus murmured suddenly, as though he needed an excuse. “And then you’ll be insufferable for weeks, so this is in everyone’s best interest, really.”

A wide grin spread across Sirius’ face. “I wasn’t complaining.”

Remus didn’t look up at him, but a blush spread across his face. Around them, the snow fell gently to the ground, in no rush at all. Sirius felt like that; they had to get back to school soon, but really, it felt like he had all the time in the world. Being with Remus was like that. Like time didn’t exist. It was oddly relaxing for someone who constantly felt like he was running out of time. 

The scarf was fine, and they both knew it. There wasn’t any reason for Remus to still be fiddling with it, no reason for his hands to be anywhere near Sirius. But Remus’ long fingers still brushed against Sirius’ jaw as they pulled the wool this way and that. 

“I love you,” Sirius blurted out in a voice barely above a whisper. He’d said it before, even if this thing between them was new; it was the truth. They were still best friends, but somehow this was… this was more than that. He couldn’t really explain it. He didn’t need to. 

_ Now _ Remus looked up at him, annoyance and affection dancing in his amber eyes. “Not here, Sirius,” he muttered. His hands stilled on Sirius’ chest; he didn’t seem to realize. “We haven’t even told James or Peter yet, and they could come up any minute.”

_ Tell them what?  _ Sirius couldn’t help but wonder. Nothing had changed, not really. It was just that now they were aware of their feelings, when they’d been oblivious to them before. Nothing had  _ changed. _

Sirius reached up and grasped Remus’ hands. They were scarred from the car crash that he’d been in when he was five, and they were freezing from the cold. He needed gloves. Sirius made a mental note to order some from the village soon. 

His grey eyes flitted to Remus’. He knew Remus wasn’t going to verbally reciprocate his words, but it didn’t concern him; there was time for that. They had all the time in the world. And anyway, Remus confessed his feelings through the gentle brush of his fingers, the twitch of his lips, the way he bit his lip and forced down a smile. 

“Let’s go,” he suggested. “They’ll figure it out.”

James and Peter would probably be waiting in the cold for a long time before they realized that Sirius and Remus had bailed, but really, that was okay. They’d be forgiven. 

Remus arched a brow; Sirius envied him the skill, but he loved watching Remus execute it so flawlessly. “That’s not nice.”

Smothering a grin, Sirius waited for Remus’ resolve to crumble. Eventually, it did. 

“...I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to head back a little early. We could tell them we wanted to get a head start on homework.”

“Sure,” Sirius agreed. It was a believable excuse for Remus, who was dedicated to his schoolwork, but it would never work for Sirius. He didn’t mind. 

He slung an arm around Remus’ shoulders, and because it was freezing, no one could question it. Without another word, he tugged Remus towards the school grounds, occasionally glancing at the subtle quirk to Remus’ lips. The white scar that split his upper lip and dipped into the lower one stretched whenever Remus’ mouth moved, and Sirius felt like he could watch it forever. 

He squeezed Remus’ shoulder just to see those lips flash a smile. 

* * *

_ And sometimes when we touch, the honesty’s too much. _

* * *

Freedom. 

That was what Sirius was to him. Complete, unhindered freedom. 

But every time Remus tried to tell him that, the words stuck in his throat. 

Sometimes—no, most nights—he’d lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, frustrated at his own inability to say the words back. To open up. To make himself… vulnerable.

He shouldn’t be so afraid of Sirius, but then again, Remus had always felt undeserving of the things that were best for him. So his lips remained firmly shut even as his heart longed to jump right out of his chest. 

Had they been a few months into their relationship, it might have been forgivable. But they were twenty now, and Remus wasn’t any closer to confessing his feelings than he’d been at seventeen. 

His fingers curled into fists around the bedsheets. Sirius stirred lightly beside him, his mouth parted and his dark hair spilled across the pillows in a way that had Remus’ heart fluttering. He resisted the urge to drag his fingers through the strands and instead opted to get out of bed and make breakfast. 

He didn’t attempt anything fancy—Sirius was perfectly happy to eat beans on toast—but he put a little more care into the tea. It was a morning ritual for the two of them: their day couldn’t start without a cup. Remus had learned the way Sirius took his tea very early into their school career, and it wasn’t something he’d be forgetting any time soon. 

He was just spooning some sugar into his own cup when Sirius stumbled in, one arm stretched above his head as he let out a mighty yawn. His eyes were half-shut with sleep, but he still shot Remus a small smile when he saw the other man at the counter. 

“Morning,” he mumbled as he pulled out a kitchen chair and collapsed into it. Remus returned his smile. 

“Morning, Sirius.” He set down the spoon he was holding. “Sleep well?”

“Mmhmm. I always do.” Sirius reached towards the middle of the table and grabbed yesterday’s newspaper; he hadn’t gotten the chance to do the crossword the previous morning. “How about you?”

Remus picked up Sirius’ mug, the heat emitting from it erring on the side of too hot. Just the way they liked it. “I slept fine.” It was a lie, but one that Remus was used to giving. He crossed the room and came up to the table, steadying himself with one hand on Sirius’ shoulder as he leaned over his boyfriend to set the cup down in front of him. Before Remus pulled away, he pressed a kiss to Sirius’ cheek. “Drink up before it gets cold. You don’t want to forget about it again.”

Sirius turned his head to send Remus a grin. “Well, we can’t have that. We both know that a cup of unattended tea is Remus Lupin’s worst nightmare.”

A huff of laughter escaped Remus’ lips, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. He didn’t answer, but he did shove Sirius’ shoulder. 

“Sorry, sorry.” Sirius caught Remus’ hand before he could pull away fully and kissed each of the knuckles. “You know I love you.”

And Remus’ breath caught in his throat. He knew what he should say. He knew what he  _ wanted _ to say. 

But some words didn’t come easily. 

He smiled shakily at Sirius. “I know,” he whispered. He squeezed the other man’s hand, and he hoped it conveyed what his words never could.

* * *

_ I wanna hold you till the fear in me subsides. _

* * *

If there was one thing that Sirius hated, it was not knowing something. And right now, as much as it gutted him to admit it, the thing Sirius didn’t know was why he was still here. 

He understood that Remus needed time. He knew that the amber-eyed man cared deeply for him, that Remus had never wanted to hurt him by withholding the three words.

But Sirius had spent his childhood trying to rise above the weight of those missing words. Knowing that the person he loved most in the world was unable to return the sentiment after so many years… it cut him to the bone. And as much as he wanted this relationship to work—he couldn’t even fathom waking up without the weight of Remus’ head on his shoulder, of having to make his own tea in the mornings, of living without Remus’ strong voice singing off-key as he did the dishes—he had been patient. Maybe too patient. 

So he visited James. 

“Sirius…” Hesitation was written all over James’ face. Sirius felt guilty about involving James at all, he truly did; James was Remus’ friend, too. But he needed to talk to someone about all of this. Unlike Remus, he couldn’t just keep everything bottled up. 

“I just—I don’t understand why, James.” He tugged at his hair angrily as he paced before James’ bed. Lily was at work, so their only eavesdropper was little Harry, who was paying more attention to the toy he was gnawing on. “It’s been years, and he still… he still won’t say it.” Desperation seeped into his voice, but Sirius couldn’t bring himself to care. “Why won’t he say it?”

Hazel eyes flitted around the room, eventually landing on Harry. James’ face softened when he saw his son. “I dunno, mate. He’s just not ready. And… well, he doesn’t have to be. But…” Here, James grew nervous; Sirius could tell by the way he gripped the duvet beneath him, his knuckles turning white. “That doesn’t mean that you need to wait around until he can say it.”

Ice flooded Sirius’ veins. He knew what James was getting at, but he couldn’t face that reality. He  _ couldn’t _ . “What—”

James held up his hands. “You know I love Remus, mate. And he has some things he needs to work out, which I’ll always be around to help him with. The same goes for you. But… I’m not saying he doesn’t love you, or that he can’t love you, I’m saying—maybe it’s too soon for you both. Maybe you need to take a step back.”

“I—” Sirius’ mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. This, he realized, was what it meant to be speechless. He didn’t enjoy it. “That’s not an option,” he bit out. 

James cleared his throat. “Okay, mate. Okay. But… I want you to put your happiness first. It’ll be better for everyone in the long run.”

With those words, James stood and walked over to little Harry, who was still gnawing on his toy. The baby immediately dropped his head against James’ shoulder, and Sirius watched the two leave the room in silence, a million thoughts racing through his head—there were so many, in fact, that he couldn’t make sense of a single one. 

Leave Remus. That’s what James’ brilliant advice had been— _ leave Remus _ . And maybe that didn’t mean cut him out completely, but… could he really pull away after so long?

Sirius looked miserably out the window. Normally, he’d go home and bury his face in the crook of Remus’ neck, maybe lay under the duvet and watch some stupid film that they both would make fun of. As much as Sirius longed to be in Remus’ embrace, the thought of being near him now, so soon after the conversation with James—and the fresh thoughts flying around his head—was too much. 

He sank onto the mattress and dropped his head into his hands. He missed Remus’ presence. 

* * *

_ And I have to close my eyes and hide. _

* * *

Remus wasn’t oblivious to the fact that Sirius was hurting. There was a new tension between them that hadn’t existed previously—or maybe it had just escalated suddenly. The only thing he knew for certain was that things had changed. But Sirius… Sirius was pulling away from him, and Remus wasn’t sure how to fix things if they weren’t  _ communicating. _

He ignored the voice in the back of his head telling him that he’d had his chance to fix things already.

Remus rolled over in bed. That was another new thing: they were sleeping with their back to each other. He reached out a tentative hand and let his fingers skim over Sirius’ shoulder. 

“Sirius?” he whispered into the darkness. “Are…”  _ Are you okay? What can I do? _ “Are you awake?”

A moment of silence, and then—

“I’m tired, Remus.” Then Sirius burrowed further into the blankets, stiff and quiet. Completely unlike the boisterous, energetic man Remus had grown so close to. 

Stung, even though he felt he didn’t have any right to be, Remus rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. They wouldn’t be having a conversation, then. 

Well, there weren’t really any words to say, anyway. 

* * *

_ At times I’d like to break you and drive you to your knees. _

* * *

It was cold outside when Sirius finally snapped. 

He wasn’t sure what the catalyst had been, exactly, but there was no denying the inferno inside of him. A world of hurt was tightening in his chest, and he could only channel it through anger. 

“I just—I need to know, Remus.” He turned to his lover, his boyfriend, his  _ partner _ with poorly-concealed anguish in his eyes. And for the first time, he confronted Remus. “I need to hear you say it.”

Remus froze from where he was doing the washing up, the sleeves of his blue jumper pushed to the elbows, leaving his freckled forearms exposed. Sirius didn’t blame him for being startled; he’d just come into the room and seen Remus doing something completely normal, as though their relationship wasn’t falling apart, and something inside of him had shattered. 

Remus’ eyes were wide. “Sirius—”

“No.  _ No _ .” Sirius held up a hand. “It’s three words, Remus. Give me something here. Something to hold on to.”

Something shuttered behind Remus’ eyes. He bit his lip and pressed his palms against his thighs—he was nervous, then. “I… I care so much about you, Sirius, I—”

“That’s not  _ good enough. _ ” Sirius walked over to the other side of the room, shaking. Remus watched him with wide eyes. “It’s three words. It’s so easy to say!”

“Not for me,” Remus snapped, and now there was that fire in his eyes that Sirius loved so  _ desperately _ . But right now, he hated its presence. “It’s not so easy for me.”

And that was part of the problem. Why? Was it the finality of the words? Remus had never feared commitment before—hell, he’d taught Sirius what commitment meant—but that didn’t mean the words held a weight for him that Sirius couldn’t understand. 

Remus must have seen the torment reflected on Sirius’ face, because he softened. “Look, it’s not like that.” He took a step forward, soap suds still clinging to his arms. “I never meant to hurt you,” Remus whispered sincerely. “Of course I didn’t. I could never… I’m just not ready to say it back.”

“It’s been years,” Sirius protested. “Do you even realize how  _ discouraging  _ that is?”

Remus’ face fell. “It’s not you.” There was an urgency in his voice, as though he needed Sirius to understand immediately. “That’s on me. I’m trying to get there. I really am.”

The words didn’t change anything, though. They were empty promises, and Sirius was so, so sick of those. 

James’ words, spoken in a bedroom nearly two weeks ago, came rushing back to him:  _ I want you to put your own happiness first. _ And he wasn’t happy, was he? Maybe he hadn’t been for a very long time.

He realized what he had to do. 

“I can’t do this, Remus.” His words were quiet but harsh. “I can’t keep dancing this bloody dance with you.”

Remus’ eyes widened. He reached out trembling fingers, and Sirius knew what would happen. As soon as those scarred digits touched his shoulder in apology, as soon as they cradled his face to provide security, as soon as Remus Lupin’s warmth seeped into his skin, his resolve would crumble and they would start this cycle all over again. It wasn’t enough to take comfort in Remus’ touch; he needed to  _ hear _ that he was loved, he needed to  _ know _ . 

So he pulled away before he could give Remus the chance. 

“Don’t touch me,” he hissed, and Remus reared back as though he’d been struck. He didn’t approach Sirius again. 

The next moments were blurred. The last thing Sirius was aware of before slamming the door of their flat closed was Remus, still in the kitchen, staring at his hands. 

Sirius wouldn’t open the door again for twelve years. 

* * *

_ But then the passion flares again. _

* * *

Remus should have known that Harry would bring them back together. It made sense, really; he was James’ boy through and through. Of course he’d hunt down the elusive uncle he only ever spoke to over the phone and show up unannounced on his doorstep. 

The thirteen-year-old had been adamant that Remus answer, too. He wasn’t going to go away. The reason for the visit, however, became clear once Remus had opened the door. 

He hadn’t expected to see a wide-eyed Sirius staring back at him. 

For a few moments, all Remus did was gape. Because after all these years, he was finally confronted with the man he’d driven away on that terrible night. The man who could barely look him in the eye now. The man he was still so desperately in love with. 

And wasn’t it just perfect that Remus had only found those words once he lost the person who needed to hear them? 

Finally, his eyes slid over to Harry. “You,” he said tiredly, “will be the death of us all.”

Harry only shrugged. “I’ll be in the park nearby.” He shoved his godfather towards the door, and Sirius nearly stumbled into Remus. “You two need to get this sorted, however it ends.”

And then he was gone, and Remus and Sirius were alone. 

And then they were in the kitchen, because Remus was nothing if not a good host. 

Remus wasn’t sure how Harry had found him—as far as he knew, even James only knew his general location—but he took it in stride. Sirius Black sitting at his kitchen table, however, made his hands tremble. The other man still hadn’t said a word. 

Not letting that fact deter him, Remus went through the hauntingly familiar motions of making their tea. How could it still feel so natural over a decade later?

He was spooning in the sugar when Sirius spoke. 

“You take it the same way.”

Remus looked up, startled. “What?”

“Your tea. You always—it’s the same.”

Remus blinked down at his cup, then nodded his head. “Creature of habit,” he admitted with a little laugh. “I hope you still take yours the same way, because that’s how I prepared it.”

Sirius’ brows shot up. “You remember?”

“You remembered mine.”

A silence followed his words, and though some tension filled it, Remus was beginning to feel a little more at ease. This was Sirius, he reminded himself. Maybe not his Sirius, but Sirius all the same. 

“Being old is worse than I thought,” Sirius said abruptly. When Remus shot him a questioning glance, he elaborated. “Godsons think they can play matchmaker, and you fall for it. Let them drag you all the way to Scotland and don’t realize what’s coming until—” Sirius stopped and cleared his throat. “I must be going mad.”

Remus walked over, his heart in his mouth. He slid Sirius’ cup of tea across the table and then lowered himself into an empty chair. It creaked under his weight; another reminder of how much distance was between them now. 

“Playing matchmaker?” he asked quietly. He didn’t expect Sirius to answer. 

Predictability, though, wasn’t synonymous with Sirius Black. Grey eyes took in Remus’ form—his greying unkempt hair, the bags beneath his eyes, his ratty jumper—and then he swallowed audibly. “You’re not an easy man to get over.”

Oh.

_ Oh. _

Remus set down his tea. “Neither are you.”

Slowly, Sirius began shaking his head. He still kept his hair long. “Don’t. Don’t tell me that unless—unless—did you ever really love me?”

The question burst forth from Sirius violently, but Remus had been expecting that. He took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice from wobbling. “Yes. Yes, of course I did.”

Sirius was waiting for more, though. He was always left waiting for more. This time, Remus was determined to give it; he knew a second chance when he saw one, and he wasn’t about to waste it. 

But the words were getting stuck in his throat. He needed to say them—he wanted to say them—but his regret tied his tongue and made him clumsy. He opened and closed his mouth, clenched and unclenched his fists—

And grabbed Sirius’ face in his hands and let his lips brush against the other man’s. 

It wasn’t rough. Their kiss was barely even that; a whisper of what used to be. But Remus poured all of his love into it, and somehow, the familiar feeling of Sirius’ stubbled jaw under his hands was the courage he needed. 

“I love you,” he breathed, his forehead pressed against Sirius’ as his eyes fluttered closed. “I’ve always loved you.”

A wounded sound escaped Sirius’ throat, but then hands were on Remus’ back, pulling him closer. Remus kissed Sirius’ cheeks, nose, eyelids, temple—everything he could reach at that angle. They could have a proper conversation soon, but right now,  _ this _ said it all. 

And Remus grew more confident.

“I love you,” he murmured. “Sirius, I—I’m so sorry, I love you—”

“Shut up.” There wasn’t any heat to the words. “Remus, you—I’ve wanted this for so long, don’t ruin it with your apologies.”

A weak laugh escaped him. “Okay,” he whispered. That, he could do. 

But he couldn’t resist dragging his thumbs across Sirius’ cheekbones as though there wasn’t any time or distance between them at all.  _ I love you _ .

  
  


**Author's Note:**

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> 
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